


The Temptation of Christ

by Sarisia (Rrrowr)



Category: Christian Bible
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jesus, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, LOOK I KNOW I'M A BAD PERSON, M/M, Rimming, THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN WHEN I WAS A TEENAGER, let me live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-01
Updated: 2008-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Sarisia
Summary: That 40 days of fasting that Jesus did after his Resurrection and his Baptism cause the Holy Spirit drove him into the nearby wilderness. 40 days in which the Devil does his best to tempt him.





	

_"Then Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan River [where he was Baptized] being urged by the Spirit out into wilderness, where Satan tempted him for forty days."_

There are moments - between the ones where Jesus felt weak and Lucifer bore his presence over him like a cloud - when Jesus could look at the Devil and see precisely what kind of angel he must have been for his Father.

Lucifer walked silent most times - feet brushing over grass and rock and thorn without sound - but didn't seem to notice. And when he stood - rigid and frustrated at his continuing losing streak - next to Jesus, the Son of God could imagine him in full armor - silver molded over muscle, the full span of his wings spread to either side. No shield, for Jesus couldn't imagine so arrogant a man admitting to needing any kind of protection, but the Devil's mouth would be twisted into a smiling snarl at the very idea of protection as he bore down upon his enemies... Before Jesus remembers that Lucifer had made Good people and things his enemies.

"You think too much," Lucifer says, kneeling on the ground next to where Jesus sits.

Lucifer dares to do things that no Man would - like fucking Men and stealing from temples and all kinds of things.

Similarly, Lucifer cards his fingers through Jesus's hair - it's their hair, the loose curls of earthy brown, and it's hard not to think that there shouldn't be anything they have in _common_ , but it's not like they don't already have the same Father - and he digs his fingers tight into the back of Jesus's skull, as if he wants to and could split the Son's head right in half right in this moment.

The threat is there and no one threatens the Son of God - not since he'd Risen, not since they'd pulled him down, so very very dead, and tucked his body into a tomb and covered his face and hidden him in darkness behind rock. There had been denouncements, of course - there were always denouncements - but those who _knew_ him treated him gently, reverently, as if they thought he was still dead, possibly, and could and would at any moment disappear if treated too harshly.

Lucifer had no such qualms - Jesus saw that, felt that - and he did what he wanted, when he wanted and didn't look for resistance (didn't expect it) which is why Jesus didn't question _why_ Lucifer kissed him.

After all, there is only ever one reason for Lucifer to do anything: because he wants to.

Lucifer skims his hands over a body that's just starting to become too thin and provides heat for a body that can't quite make it on its own, and Jesus is _grateful_ for it.

"Stop thinking," Lucifer hisses into his neck, "or I swear that I won't make this enjoyable."

Jesus is nothing if not the generous one between them - can't help his nature; he was Created to give everything of himself and there was nothing that told him to exclude the Devil from that.

"I can't-" And Jesus is surprised to find his voice rough, "I can't stop-" no matter that he wants to now, but there must be some way to- "Stop me. Make me stop."

Lucifer smiles with all teeth and thin lips, Jesus thinks, as he gets pushed into the grass, and there are claws scraping against his chest when Lucifer rips his Baptismal robe from his body.

_Animal._

_Like an animal._

"By the end of this, you'll have wanted this," Lucifer growls and... that's precisely what Jesus dreads, but he nods anyway and whispers, "Yes," as Lucifer's mouth surrounds his-

It shouldn't be remotely beautiful because Men aren't supposed to - not when the population is as thin as it is, when procreation and occupying the earth is priority at the moment - but Lucifer _does_ look beautiful going down on him like this, with his mouth stretched slightly and his hair pulled to one side so that Jesus can watch what's making his body tremble and his breath harsh and his brain carefully, systematically, shut down.

"You've done this before," Jesus says - Lucifer hums an affirmative and Jesus feels his vision go white for a split second - and it's really not a surprise because Lucifer is Sin and the Devil and has been since long before Jesus had been conceived, but he wants to say it. "You like doing this."

Lucifer sucks firmly as he leans back on his heels and leaves Jesus bereft of his mouth, but Lucifer's got his hand around him, pumping slow, not intending on letting Jesus forget what they're doing, what they're about to do.

"It's a necessity," Lucifer says. "Do you want me to finish you off?"

Jesus does. And he doesn't. But Lucifer wants him to want it, so Jesus sucks in a breath and nods: "Yes."

Lucifer's expression is serious; solemn as he crawls over Jesus, knuckles in the ground by Jesus's waist; knees pressing up between Jesus's thighs.

"Then, I just have one little request," Lucifer murmurs, lashes low, voice soft - then suddenly dark: "Say 'I want the Devil to make me come.'"

Jesus shudders. "Can't I say-"

Lucifer kisses him without mercy. " _No._ " Bites at his lips; refuses to let him turn away. "Say 'I want the Devil to fuck me.' Say it!"

Jesus voice croaks: "I want-"

Lucifer bends at the sound of his voice, hand coming around Jesus's waist to touch his spine.

"I want -"

There aren't any claws when Lucifer's nails press against his skin. Jesus wonders-

Haltingly: "I want you to - to ... make me come."

Lucifer's mouth moves down his body. Jesus can feel the heat of his blood, so so frustratingly close, just like Lucifer has been and will be for the entire length of his fasting.

"And the rest," he murmurs.

" _Please._ "

Lucifer presses Jesus's hips down with hard hands, breaths hot breath over his skin. "The rest of it," he urges, merciless because even as an angel he had been merciless.

And it's not quite right, but neither was the last, and Jesus wants just like Lucifer had wanted him to and he sobs, short, once:

"Please...fuck-" the word is jarring, unusual, alien; he tries again: "Please _fuck_ me, Lucifer."

"Good," Lucifer sighs, as if having found his release just by those words. "Very good."

But he makes no move to take Jesus in his mouth again.

"Turn over," he says. "You'll get your wish."

Jesus expects nothing when he turns onto his knees. He doesn't know how this is done - can't understand how this could possibly be Good when it's not something strictly... allowed... - but Lucifer knows what he's doing.

He can't really say that he _thinks_ Lucifer knows because he can't think at all when he feels tongue press between his cheeks.

It's wet and... and it _must_ be absolutely disgusting, but he can't bring himself to care about what This Thing that Lucifer's doing should be when every lick has his nerves in tangles.

Hot, sharp, inescapable tightening around his spine. Jesus digs his fingers into the carpet of grass and squirms and moves because that's the only way he can seem to get rid of the awful, terrible, wonderful spiraling-

" _Lucifer._ "

He wants it to stop. He _doesn't_ want it to stop. He doesn't know if he could bear it to stop or bear its continuance. His voice is thick when he says Lucifer's name again, shifts back and up against the Devil's mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world - and for all he knows, it could be; just another extension of his Purpose, but he doesn't think that, doesn't think anything. Merely, instinctually, hopes that a harder pressure will bring relief.

But it doesn't.

Oh, how it doesn't.

There's humming the second Jesus has Lucifer's mouth tight against his entrance. It's worse - it's so much worse - and the aching pressure that's been keeping Jesus to the ground until now triples, just for those few seconds of breath.

It's enough. It's too much and - Frankly, Lucifer could do anything to him at this point and Jesus wouldn't do anything to stop him.

"Did that feel good?" Lucifer asks, as if he can't tell. _As if he can't tell._

Jesus presses his eyes into his fist.

"Would you like more?" Lucifer asks.

Jesus groans: _No._

But that dreadful humming is against his skin again, buzzing against his spine until his shoulders bunch up, and then between his cheeks again-

"Wait," Jesus gasps when he feels a pause against the base of his spine, already half fighting to get away from the threat of that....

But he needn't have worried so much.

The pause was so Lucifer could slick up two of his fingers and slide them both inside.

It's quick. It's sudden. It _hurts_ but Jesus is no stranger to any of those descriptions. Even so, he goes still with surprise, biting back the sound of it with his teeth, only to whimper when Lucifer spreads his fingers - once, twice, again, scissoring with the swift efficiency of someone who's had many Men - before slipping in a third.

"Is it too much?" Lucifer whispers - voice hot, eager for an answer. "Do you think you can take more?"

And Jesus shakes his head. He doesn't. He doesn't _think_ , but he knows he can, if he must, because it is his nature to be able to handle anything thrown at him.

Still, he doesn't-

"Good."

He had thought the pressure frustratingly building in his nerves because of Lucifer's mouth had been bad. He thought the fingers - weird, to feel something moving inside him like that - had been worse.

He hadn't known-

Gasping - "Lucifer - _ah... hah_ \- Luci-"

Hadn't known he could be stretched like this.

_Fuck._

Jesus knows the meaning of the word now. Knows that it means Lucifer has to be inside him. Knows that it's Lucifer moving however he damn well pleases - be it slow, be it fast, be it hard or gentle. Knows that it means a bit too rough on the rest of him. Means Lucifer's fingers and his mouth and whatever else putting shallow bruises on his skin.

And he knows that _fuck_ has to do with the indescribable sensation of having something inside him, something moving, something that can - when Lucifer chooses - bring that unbearable tightening pressure _back_.

It's not... perhaps... the definition he would have chosen. Too specific, but then he has nothing to compare it to.

"Damn it all," Lucifer hisses into his ear as he thrusts in as far as he can go and stills.

It's too deep, too far in. He is afraid. So very very afraid that even after Lucifer withdraws... that he will never be free of him.

"I told you to stop that," the Devil says, pulling sweaty - oh, that'll make him thirstier in time - strands of hair away from his forehead. "This isn't about that."

And his hand splays over Jesus's heart. He must be able to hear how hard it's pounding in his chest. Jesus's hand goes to cover Lucifer's - strains at how it makes him unsteady, but Lucifer's hold on him is already adjusting to hold him up, to keep him in place while Lucifer moves in those small, welcomingly good circles that makes Jesus's head drop and his body tremble softly.

"It's not about thought. It's about feeling."

And oh. Oh, yes. Jesus can feel him. Everywhere. Around him. Within him. Beyond him. It's alarming. It's amazing. Jesus hadn't thought - and that was the point, right - that anyone could make him tremble after being in the presence of the Lord, but Lucifer is arrogant for a reason and he _knows_ what he's doing and Jesus is still in a human body for all that he feels inescapably connected to his, their Father.

"This isn't about power."

Lucifer's voice purrs as he says that. Breath and high putters of sound against the nape of Jesus's neck as the Devil's hands move over the pink skin where the spear had touched.

His fingers slip into the hollow crescent of Jesus's hip and pull him up and back and it's slick and it's perfect and it sends Jesus's voice into a shallow keen.

"It's about connection."

"And I'd say this isn't about sinning," Lucifer starts.

He grasps Jesus's flesh in his palm and starts jerking him off to the pace he's set with his hips, pumping into Jesus's body and pushing Jesus into his palm. And he smears come between his fingers and jerks a little faster until Jesus spills over the grassy floor and drags the Devil right along with him.

Lucifer breathes heavy into the curl of Jesus's hair. "But let's face it, I just fucked you and you enjoyed it."

They don't talk so much about it afterward. Lucifer tempts him more casually near the end - with the idea of turning rocks into bread and throwing himself off towers so that angels can catch him - but the Devil offers no more of himself in the days that follow.

Jesus won't tell him that the scriptures he'll write and his disciples will write will only talk about sexual relations between Human Men, and purposefully not about relations between angel-man-demons and Men.

Lucifer will not tell him that he'll be around long enough to see it for himself.


End file.
